


Metamorphosis

by Jeannyboy



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Supernatural Elements, Trans Character, Triggers, idk trying to cover all the bases, possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 19:06:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20069047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeannyboy/pseuds/Jeannyboy
Summary: Dove struggles through her changing life with an unaccepting father, spiritual mother and a new boy who makes her smile despite the conflict in her life.





	Metamorphosis

“The town is allocating the Lowell land for the new cemetery.” Dove's father flicks the newspaper, which had started to sag in the middle, making it stand tall and proud, much like the man behind the print. “ Apparently his son sold everything and is donating the land back to the town instead of living in his childhood home himself.” He scoffs as if the idea has offended him.

His wife, a lovely woman still flitting around the kitchen like a nervous hummingbird seems to purr. “Didn't his wife just have a second child? Maybe he didn't want to uproot his oldest.” She continues her flighty gestures, either taking no notice or ignoring the look her husband gives her over his paper. Dove could see his jaw clench as he flicks the paper again, knowing to keep their silence in tact.

Through all her years, Dove had witnessed what she would always feel was the strangest relationship between her parents. Her father, a straight-lace, no-nonsense lawyer had married her mother, a spiritual woman devout to the arts, straight out of college. They somehow managed to make it work, their home a mixture of plain furniture and lavish tapestries, bits of amethyst and animal skulls propped between old books on law and baseball that sat looking odd beside books like the encyclopedia of ghosts and books on superstitions around the world.

Dove had taken this as a good sign that her father would accept her when she'd completely changed her lifestyle but this had not been the case at all. They now ate their meals with a barrier between them, Dove's mother the only one keeping the conversation up, mostly with her own stories of the happenings around her shop, the two avoiding each other around the house, as if two specters danced quietly around each other so as not to disrupt the balance in an abandoned house.

“Hey lovebug, will you take the trash out when you leave?” Dove looked up at her as she spoke her childhood nickname with the same fondness as she had a few months before. It had been the one thing she'd asked her not to change when addressing her.

Dove nodded. “Of course.” She reciprocated the smile her mother gave her, only to let it fall as she turned away and she caught her fathers' eyes narrow at the paper, unable to make out the words on his lips.

On her way to the kitchen to gather the trash before she left, Dove passed by her fathers' office, hearing her parents arguing. She paused, not wishing to be late, but unable to stop herself from listening in. Even before she heard her name, she knew the topic of the dispute. It had been the tug that had been slowly unraveling their relationship for the last few months.

“You can accept my oddities, my crazy ideas but you can't accept Dove the way she is-

“ Because it isn't right, Bianca. We didn't have a _girl_. You have to stop encouraging him-”

“The only one I should stop encouraging is _you, Vance._ Your hatred towards our daughter-”

“Our _son_-” Dove drew away as if her father had struck her and continued to the kitchen. She blinked back tears, her vision blurring for a moment before she could control the flow and walk out the door.

It had started to rain on her two block walk to the bus stop, her canvas shoes a poor defense against the elements as her speed picked up along with the strengthening deluge. It was as if her spiraling thoughts had manifested themselves into being; as if they had condensed, creating the clouds and then the rain that had all but soaked her through as she came upon the covered bus stop, her pace slowing as another figure stood there.

Social anxiety burbled up, an overflowing spring, upon seeing another figure in the morning light. It was odd to see another person up so early, waiting at this particular stop. Dove had purposefully started going to the college early last semester, hiding out in the stacks for almost two hours, to avoid as much human interaction as possible.

The man that stood there had taken notice of her, glancing up from the phone in his hand, his boxy headphones seeming to weigh his head back down as he went back about his business. Dove didn't move from the edge of the shelter but her eyes wandered. Curious, she glanced sideways at the man, deciding that he was close to her own age and that he was either unmarried or was unsure of which finger to put his wedding band on, a silver band winking at her in the strengthening sunlight.

She took in mousy brown hair and a tanned complexion, thinking his looks plain like her own, when his eyes snapped over, catching her gaze with surprisingly light colored eyes. Dove could feel her face burn and turned her eyes forward, thankful for the sight of the bus coming around the corner.

Embarrassed, Dove took the lead as the man gestured for her to go before him, quickly claiming a seat at the back of the bus, sinking further in her seat when she sees the man take the seat diagonally adjacent to her. She turns, watching the rain as it came down, trying her hardest not to recreate the droplets on her cheeks.

The ride home is always a tighter fit; people on their way home from work packing onto the bus to avoid a cab fair. Despite her earlier chagrin, Dove lifts her eyes to scan the faces of the people on the bus, feeling deflated when she doesn't see the man from that morning. She can feel her heart fluttering all the way home, the beat of wings in her chest picking up in anticipation at what the atmosphere might be when she walks through the door. Her head in the near future, she startles when a car door slams shut near her and she sees the man from earlier walking across the sidewalk towards a lilac house. His headphones are gone and there's a scowl on his face. It softens when he glances her way, his steps faltering as he slows down to a stop and she realizes her mirror to him.

Dove stands there, feeling silly, until she raises her hand a little and waves. The gesture isn't grand but it makes his lips twitch upwards. He turns as if to start her way, but the door to the lilac house opens and he turns away, waving to her as he moves up the walkway towards the house. Dove doesn't move, waiting for the door to close fully before continuing her own walk home.

***

“A guy...smiled at me today.” Dove's words were soft and she could feel the color high in her cheeks. Her mother looked up from the painting she was working on, turning to her daughter who sat close, a book on her lap although it looked as if the page hadn't been turned in the half hour they'd been sitting together.

“Oh yeah?” She smiled, reaching to clean her brush out. “Is it someone we know?”

Dove fiddled with the pages of the book, fidgeting in her nervousness. “No. I think he just moved into the house on Kingston. Remember the moving truck last week?” She watches her mother nod, her smile gentle as she listens to her daughters' words.

“Maybe you can bake a pie and take it over as a welcome to the neighborhood present.”

Dove's cheeks deepened in color. “Mom, people don't do that anymore. Wouldn't it seem strange?”

There was a glint in her mothers' eye before she turned back to her painting. “What if it does? I think we all need a little more strange in our lives.”

Dove's grin was sheepish as she opened her book and attempted to read again.

***

The next day dawns and Dove makes her way to the bus stop, a little shy but emboldened by her mothers' words the night before. Life was strange and sometimes it led you to strange places to meet strange people. Or maybe it had led him to a strange place to meet a strange person. Surprisingly, this thought made her happier than it probably should have.

Her fingers knotted themselves together as she approached the empty bus stop. Taking her place beneath the shelter, she tried to be subtle as she looked around, trying to not let her heart fall as the bus idled around the corner. Just as she was stepping up to the bus, she looked down the sidewalk and saw the man waving one hand as he jogged up to the stop.

His smile was bright as his steps came to a halt in line behind her, waiting patiently as she ascended onto the bus. He took the same seat as the day before, but not without first looking back at her. She smiled back at him, a sweet smile that lingered all the way through her classes.

She noticed his absence yet again on her ride home but figured that, unlike her, he had a job. Her good mood that had stayed with her all day continued until the moment she walked through her front door. There she found a thick silence. Checking the garage, she found both cars gone and thought it unusual. One of her parents was usually home when she got back in the afternoons. She figured her father had a difficult case and that her mother had had a busy day, probably trying to sell her overstock sage bundles to anyone who came in with a flickering energy that belied negativity.

At once, Dove finds herself at peace in the silence. She'd always liked music and listened to it, but recently, the absence of all noise seemed to calm her more than anything. It seemed that it was the only thing to clear the muddiness in her mind. Although she loved to hear her mother humming in the kitchen, it wouldn't be interrupted by a comment by her father. The TV in the living room was quiet instead of the constant mumbling of the sports channel.

Taking what time she could, Dove finds herself in the kitchen, pulling together the ingredients she'd need for a chocolate pie. She hadn't baked much, preferring to watch her mother float around the room with ease, but the recipe came out well with minimal mess and in no time she was making her way up the walk to the lilac house. She steadied her hands beneath the pie tin, swallowing past the knot in her throat. The rope in her chest lay heavy but slack, seemingly waiting for the instance to be pulled taut. Despite this feeling, Dove rang the doorbell, waiting nervously for the door to open.

When it did, an older woman opened the door, a look of surprise on her face. “Hello?”

“Hello Miss...uhm...I live around the corner and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” She smiled brightly, doing her best to impress.

The woman chuckled, the tension releasing from her shoulders. “Oh I've lived here a long time. It's my son who's just moved back. He's not here right now.”

Dove blinked, feeling her face heat up. “Oh. Well if you could give him the pie and welcome him, that would be lovely.” Quickly handing the dish to the woman, Dove turned abruptly, the rope tightening only enough to remind her of its presence.

The next few days were rather quiet; the man from the bus stop having seemingly disappeared while Dove's father all but having done so as well. The only time she would see him would be to stumble in home some nights, smelling foul with a temper to match. Mornings weren't much better, the hangover having taken its toll while her mother continued as if nothing was happening.

“Is dad cheating on you?” Dove had been bold enough to ask one Friday night while it was just the two of them in the kitchen, doing the dishes while a jazzy tune burbled quietly from the speakers of an ancient radio kept by the sugar container. Dove had expected shock or at least denial but what she hadn't expected was the bubbling _laughter_ that escaped her mother's mouth.

“Goodness no, lovebug. Your father doesn't have the balls and he does love me...and you...he's just...” She sighs, the sound heavy. “His world is changing and he doesn't know how to deal with it. You should have seen him before you were born. Strange things he did. Your grandma Dovey found him tilling her garden at midnight just the week before the due date!” Her mothers' eyes got soft and her hands stilled in the water. “We just have to be patient until he comes to terms with all of this.” She took another deep, cleansing breath, locking her gaze with Dove's. “He doesn't know it yet, but he's going to feel pretty foolish when the day comes that he realizes you haven't really changed. That you're still the most amazing thing that could have happened to our lives.”

Dove's heart lifts from the rut it had been in, her lips tight against the smile she was forcing her mouth to contain.

Strange things, indeed.

The next morning found Dove walking with a spring in her step despite her expectations of an empty bus stop. To see the man standing in the soft dawn light, headphones around his neck, foot tapping on the cold concrete was like a jolt to her already buzzing system.

Maybe it was her mother's words the night before or maybe it was her own self confidence growing, whatever it was had Dove striding confidently up to the shelter, planting her feet a foot from his. He looked up, startled, bright eyes wide before his features arranged themselves in what she assumed was a more natural position of ease.

In one hand was his phone, the other, a folded piece of paper that he held onto firmly. He flashed her a smile before turning his attention back to his phone, right thumb tapping rapidly as they waited in silence. Dove decided then that the silence was comfortable. That is was easier than speaking and that she enjoyed sharing it with this unknown man.

As the bus idled to a stop in front of them, Dove noticed the man gesture for her to step up first, just as he had the last time. Upon her arrival at the school, she got up, ready to depart, when she caught the man holding the folded sheet of paper out to her. Dove took it, confused, but left hurriedly, no time to waste with the driver glaring at her. Standing on the sidewalk as the bus pulled from the curb, she unfolded the paper and read what was written there.

**The pie was delicious.**

**Thank you ☺**

Genuine mirth burst forth, a sound much like a bleating sheep erupting forth before she could cover her mouth and smother it. It was the best start to her day. Life _was_ strange, but, she decided, it was worth it for moments like these.

The next morning, Dove was first at the bus stop, a fresh banana nut muffin in her hand, her mind buzzing with hope that the stranger shows. She isn't disappointed and surprises herself by smiling when he sidles up next to her.

“Good morning. I brought you a muffin.” Her words are brittle in the morning air, shaky with nerves, her heart fluttering like Maya Angelou's poem. She's pleased to see his smile but is confused when he only waves, mouthing the words _thank you_ as she hands him the muffin.

Her confusion doesn't end until he types away at his phone screen, turning it towards her so that she can read the words displayed there: I'm sorry I can't speak. I have Aphonia but don't think less of how astounded I am of the care you've taken to welcome me. Thank you. :)

“What's aph- oh.” She chuckles nervously as he gazes easily at her, unbothered by her obvious slip-up. “Well I don't mind the silence.” She smiles, her head tilting slightly to one side. “Honestly.”

As she leaves the bus later that morning, Dove hands the stranger a scrap of paper with her messy scrawl as she leaves: Dove Smith. 276-555-9870. Talking has always made me anxious

She gets a text as she enters the library.

Rudolf Garren. Please call me Rudi, I've never liked the reindeer games enough to play along.

It is then that Dove finds out that even though he is mute, Rudi has the kind of humor that has her laughing and smiling more than she ever has.

The next few weeks have Dove and Rudi texting like two teenagers desperate for communication at all hours of the day. Through their particular arrangement, Dove had opened up to Rudi faster than she'd thought possible. She'd told him of how she'd been named after her grandmother, how much she hated contouring and how her mother was showing her how to bake, leaving little offerings for her father in an attempt at a truce. In return, she'd learned that Rudi had recently moved back from Germany where he'd spent the last 21 years apart from his mother until he'd learned of her illness, that he worked shadowing the town gravedigger until his retirement:when the new cemetery was ready for its first grave and that he was severely allergic to blueberries.

There was very little they didn't tell one another, building trust as quickly as an eager child with a stack of blocks. When scary truths came out, neither seemed to mind. There were always words of encouragement and what seemed to be a never ending flow of positivity. Dove couldn't imagine a life without Rudi and gave thanks to whatever god would listen for this beautiful, mute man.

Having started sitting together on the bus, Rudi by the window, a warm barrier against the seeping cold, the bus rides seemed to get shorter the more their friendship bloomed. Dove had taken it upon herself to learn ASL, something Rudi would show her simple signs such as _thank you_ and _please_, but wasn't ready to reveal her surprise to her friend. Her two hours in the stacks every morning had been dedicated to books and videos on the subject, her hope that she could learn the basics by his birthday only a few months away strengthening every day.

Her heart was rarely deflated these days, full to the brim of spending more time with her mother and with Rudi, her father less drunk and seemingly brooding instead. But as her mother once said “we need a little more strange in our lives.” It was like a mantra to Dove now, keeping her light as a feather, allowing the wind to guide her path.

Strange truly started the day Rudi handed her a CD as she stood to exit the bus. Smiling at her, he shooed her on before she could get a good look at the cover. As she made her way to the library, she studied the cover of the plastic case and the neat scrawl across the front.

I really like you but I'm bad with words...

The empty space around the words was filled with doodles of birds and deer, a slew of other doodles stretching across the white square in her hands. Her feet stopped moving and her heart thundered as she opened the case. On the CD itself were the words

So here you go...

He had squeezed 19 lines of song titles and their artist onto the front of the disc, his writing getting smaller the closer the words got to the bottom. It wasn't perfect, but it made Dove feel that way. It made her skip her self teaching and rent a computer and headphones to listen to her new CD instead. It made her cry with happiness when One Directions' You Don't Know You're Beautiful started to play. It made her rip her phone out of her bag and text nine heart emojis to Rudi without hesitation. His response was instantaneous, a blushing smiley face that made her grin. She couldn't wait to see him again.

Life is strange.

Life is a kaleidoscope of feelings and moods and circumstances, ever changing with the way we move and twist the mirror, refracting the colors in different ways with even the slightest bump of movement.

It's shocking when one tells their parents about their decision to change their gender identity because of the dysphoria surrounding their assigned gender and one of them, the one you thought was your best friend, shuns you. It's beautiful when it gives someone a man that looks past such factors to see the soul beneath the skin. It's cruel when it takes that same man, stealing him away from people he had yet to show what true love felt like.

Dove got the call as soon as she got home; an unknown number she was sure was a collector but one she'd answered anyway due to the nature of college life.

“Hello?”

“Is this Dove Smith?”

“Yes. May I ask who-”

A cry in the background had Dove's words come to a halt, her legs like jelly as she felt the tension enter her soul. A sense of dread filled her and she fought gravity for her right to stand until she made it to the couch. “This is Amanda Fields at the hospital. A Mrs. Garren asked me to call you and inform you of...her sons passing. He was hit by a bus when crossing the street earlier today. She says you two were close and that she wishes she could tell you herself but felt she would not be up for visitors any time soon.”

Dove's eyesight fades at the edges, like her brain is shutting down, until her mother is standing above her, a look of worry on her face. “Lovebug, hey. What happened, what's wrong?” Looking around, she sees the front door wide open, realizing time had passed, that the light coming in through the windows was different and that her father was kneeling beside the couch on the floor, the closest he'd been to her in months.

“I...I think I'm going to vomit.” She lurches from the couch and into the bathroom before another word is said. She cries and dry heaves, trying to expel the feeling inside of her, knowing that it would not budge. This was heartbreak, a feeling she hadn't felt before but knew quite well from the look in her mothers' eyes and the way her father clenched his jaw to keep words from spilling over that would drown their family.

She didn't go to the grave side burial. Rudi's father had called her, explaining that they wanted a private funeral with only the two of them, to account for all the time they'd lost as a family. She cried, her tears silent as she listened and nodded, remembering after a pause to actually speak. Before they hung up, he made sure to tell her where he would be buried; the only grave in the new cemetery that had been donated by the Lowell family, under the old oak tree. Dove said her thank you's and good bye's, wishing nothing more than to curl up and text Rudi until the sun came up.

It was six months later when her mother died and was to be buried before Dove made it to the cemetery. She'd grown distant for a few weeks after Rudi's death, unable to cope with her changing lifestyle as well as her fathers' less severe but continued silence until her mother had rallied and brought her back around, asking her to teach her the ASL she'd learned.

“Maybe he'll guard the cemetery like the black dogs used to. That superstition has origins in Germany, you know.” Dove's mother had made the comment idly as they sat mirroring the scene between the two of them months before, one painting while the other pretended to read. It took Dove a moment to realize her mother had spoken, her eyes blinking, her mind mulling over the words she'd said.

“At least it'll be quiet there.”

Now, as she stands in front of the mirror, brushing the long wavy mane her hair had become, trying her best not to look like the dead herself, the only thing Dove seemed to be able to think was _At least now you can meet him, mom._

It gutted her to see her father's red rimmed eyes as they stood side-by-side at the grave site. Her mother had been right: he hadn't been cheating on her, he'd been in love with her as much as the day they'd married, he just had a peculiar way of handling big changes. In the week since the car accident that had taken her mothers' life, Dove had watched as he'd methodically taken every photo out of their photo albums, spread them on the floor around him, staring at them for hours into the night before falling asleep in their protective circle. The next morning, she had found that every picture had been returned to its rightful slot and he was making a breakfast of Spanish omelets, his wife's favorite.

They stood alone, the other family and friends who had attended having left over an hour ago. They couldn't seem to leave. Both immobilized by roots of love and fear that had grown through their feet, melding into their bones. Dove sat now, watching the sun sink further down from the passenger seat, a hand reaching toward her fathers' arm in a gesture of comfort. Upon contact, he blinked once, twice, before pulling his arm away too quickly, a look of guilt shadowing his face immediately after.

“After all this time....you can't accept me?” Her voice shook, deep and raw from tears and uncaring. “After all that has happened? You don't have a son anymore, you don't have a _wife_ anymore.” The words cut like a knife but she couldn't stop herself. “All you have is a daughter who wants to be here for you! Who holds onto her mothers' pain of watching you self-destruct because you can't adapt!” Her voice is louder than she'd meant, more tears having shed, not for the loss of her mother, but for the loss of herself and the person she had once been. Unable to sit while she waited for her father to respond, Dove angrily shoves herself out of the car, stomping back towards the cemetery and the comfort it now held.

Unable to watch as the new grave digger threw shovelfuls of dirt over her mother's cedar casket, Dove allowed her anger and loss to guide her to the one she wished she could cling to in that moment. Remembering his fathers' words, Dove found Rudi's grave under an old oak that had previously been a part of the Lowell land. The tree cast an eerie shadow across the white headstone but her heart was too full of raging feelings to be afraid.

Falling to her knees, Dove cried, her head pulled back as if howling at the moon as it rose. Her legs started to tingle before she became aware of another presence.

“I can catch a bus home, dad. For once I actually want you to leave me alone.” There are no words but the feeling of another presence was still there and her anger rose with her body. “I said leave!” She choked on her tears as she turned to face her offender, stopping dead at the sight there. Before her stood the figure of a large black dog. Around its neck hung a plain silver braid, like a rope dipped in molten metal.

Stunned, Dove took a step back and the dog whined, it ears lying back against it's head. Looking back, Dove realized she'd stepped on the grave itself. Pulling her foot back, the dog's ears stood erect, its tongue lolling out as it panted happily. It's startlingly light eyes stare at her with a warmth and familiarity that surprised her.

_I think we need a little more strange in our lives_.

The thought came unbidden but Dove was sure her mother had whispered it to her as the wind played with her hair.

Bending down to one knee, Dove brought one shaking hand to the edge of her temple, the gesture resembling a military salute as she says, voice high, “Hello.”

The dog's tail thumps against the ground and its head tilts back and he howls. The sound is haunting and she is at once certain that no one but her can hear it. It looks back at her, head cocked as if waiting for an answer. Dove taps her nose twice, a smile on her face, and the dog bounds to her in one leap and she buries her face in soft fur that smells like mown grass and freshly upturned soil. Tears are streaming down her face and she cries until she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She looks up to find her father there, hand outstretched to help her up. They walk hand in hand back to the car, a hot breath at her heels until they pass through the wrought iron gate. Looking back, Dove smiles as she sees the dog waiting there for her to return. He tips back his head and howls once more, the silence as the sound fades a welcome weight in her heart.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the work that finally won me first place in my community's short story writing competition. Not gonna lie, I seriously thought I would't even place because the material was so different from what the conservative nature of my community holds dear but I forgot that the arts council is truly amazing and was like ya know what, this is what I want to write, forget if I win. SO yeah, here you go!
> 
> I myself am not trans however I am a huge ally and I tried to write Dove the best I could. 
> 
> Any comments or creative criticism are surely welcome! 
> 
> Thank you all! <3


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